


Chuck's Secret Angels

by subtextual



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Humor, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blasphemy, Comedic style of writing, Dick Jokes, Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Humor, I Don't Even Know, Lapdance, Lingerie, M/M, Not the leviathan kind, Romantic Comedy, Season Four Castiel, Sexual Humor, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:56:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtextual/pseuds/subtextual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon 'verse au / Castiel is sent down to get the 411 on humans before rescuing Dean from Hell and how best angels can fit among them. After seeing a commercial of Victoria's Secret he is convinced that is how all humans portray angels, obviously. So as one of Chuck's favorites it is decided that to best blend in with humanity as angels they must all wear lingerie and act like 'sexy' super models. ...Of course being a prideful winged dick he takes it too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chuck's Secret Angels

[4x01]  **LAZARUS RISING**

 _And knocked me out and then you_  
_Shook me all night long_  
_You had me shakin' and you_  
_Shook me all night long_

* * *

 Whatever rode Dean outta Hell had to be one powerful son of a bitch. That's all he could think as the walls of the barn shook and the wind roared just as loud as any monster he had ever ganked. A loud rattling nearly tore the roof off.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind." Bobby's answering look told him that no, it was not just the wind. But god damn it... wouldn't it be awesome if for once they didn't have to kick monster ass and relax with a cold one? Preferably without the Dean-Sam brother moment. Chick flicks should stay in their own genre for a reason. And he probably should not be driving after said alcohol because fate would be the biggest bitch ever for them to go through all this shit and just be offed because of drunk driving.

Hey, what did Dean know anyway though? His role is the pretty, dumb one with the single man tear.

So the roof's still shaking, the walls were quaking, and his mind was definitely aching for this demon to hurry the fuck up.

Cue doors to burst open. Stupid monsters bursting open doors. Like they didn't even care about who ever owned this ramshackled love shack. Barn. He meant barn.

Light bulbs shatter. Sparks rain down on the all-powerful asshole and Dean narrowed his eyes a bit to see in this crap lighting. And holy fuck, but he knew the guy would be trouble when he walked in.

...Mainly for his sexuality.

Blue eyes blazing to Dean's core the monster prowled over to him. Totally woulda been Animal Planet worthy too if not for the fact he strutted. Oh yeah, and the dude wore lingerie. Like straight up. Dean kind of stared for a minute as his face burned hot. Tanned expanse of skin covered in a transparent black, white, and blue lace corset. Actual freakin' navy panties unfortunately not so transparent clung to his hips. Well built legs looked all the more sexy in a black garter belt and thigh highs. A flasher tan trench coat completed the outfit. He totally wasn't drooling. Nope.

"Idjjit."

All of a sudden Dean got slapped across the face. Head moving back and forth he eventually turned towards Bobby. "Ow! What –why, why did you do that for?" He demanded, rubbing at his cheek like he had never gotten smacked around by a monster before.

Bobby shook his head slowly and gestured to the gun that he held. "That's the demon that yanked your behind out. And you don't shoot just 'cause he's got a fixin' to play dress up?" Disapproval dripped from his words. "Wipe your chin and help me shoot fancy pants over there."

After wiping his face of all non existent drool Dean screwed up his face all tough like. A minute or two later his shoulders drooped. Gazing with full heart eyes, he watched as the demon continued forward. "Do we have to shoot him?" He whined. C'mon. If Sammy got to hook up with the evil demon bitch who must not be named then he deserved his own hot gay love story.

"No, we get to have a damn tea party," Bobby snorted.

"Awesome. I'm starving from spending the last 40 fucking years in Hell," Dean groaned at the thought of mouth watering well, anything. Maybe sausage. After all he was Dean fucking Winchester. He didn't know shit about tea parties. If he had a tea party with this blue-eyed fine piece of ass it would damn well include sausage.

Instead of entertaining Dean's completely hetero train of thought Bobby emptied his shot gun at the monster.

Reluctantly he did the same. Rounds pierced sexy demon's chest but did not even slow him down. If anything it just pissed him off more and even though it turned Dean on like crazy he was still a hunter. Hunters didn't stand there like a gaping moron in the presence of monsters no matter how hot. They stabbed them. Grabbing the knife from the table he held it up as the demon approached.

"Who are you?" Dean growled. _'And would you like to go out to dinner sometime? Actually let's skip dinner. I'll kick Sammy out of the motel room and we can go right to dessert.'_

The demon squinted as if he could hear his completely hetero thoughts. Head tilted just slightly he said, "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition."

Woah. Hello sex voice. Like, fuck. Did this guy gargle razor blades in his spare time? Dean had to know if he did audio porn and where he could buy every recording ever made. Oh shit. Blue eyes staring. He was supposed to say something. Praying to the Overcompensating Masculinity Gods he asked for just the right snarky one liner. "Yeah. Thanks for that," he spat.

Good job, Dean. Nice one. Now just... to stab sexy demon in the chest so he totally got the message he was straight. Everything else considered he had destroyed his secret wants for less. Throwing himself forward he plunged the knife right through his chest. There. Wait... shouldn't he be dead by now?Maybe he should pat it for good measure. Before he could the not-demon's face grew just that more pissed off and he stared down at the blade. This would not be the appropriate time for a dick joke. Nope.

“You stabbed a hole through my corset,” the monster pointed out, voice blank. He looked completely unconcerned of the knife.

Who the fuck was this guy, Batman? No. If Bruce Wayne walked around in lingerie Dean would be the first to know about it. Staring back at the monster – Castiel, he had a name and by now he had kinda earned it over every other petname. Dean watched in disbelief as he yanked the knife out of his chest. It clattered to the floor.

All of a sudden Bobby attacked with some type of pipe gripped in his hand. He swung it hard, and Dean internally winced because fuck that was gonna hurt when Castiel caught it. Holy shit. Without even turning it around. Holy fucking shit.

Exhibiting his Batman skills all the more Castiel used the pipe to jerk Bobby forward. Then two fingers pressed against the center of his forehead and he slumped to the ground.

Holy fucking shit.

“We need to talk, Dean. Alone,” Castiel rumbled out. Not even a foot or so remained between the distance of them. Now usually Dean would be all for this. No one around but the guy he hooked up with to know he wasn't so hetero. Except clearly Bobby was still around, and he doubted the reason this blue-eyed sex god wanted to talk was for sexy times.

“...Has anyone ever told you that your hair looks like sex?” Dean could honestly say he associated everything about this dude with sex.

Castiel blinked. He stared. And blinked again. Finally after stroking his hair with added hesitance he replied, “are you not going to check to see if your friend is dead?”

Oh, yeah. Right. Dean's face scrunched up into one of righteous anger and he bent down crouching to see if Bobby's okay. Two fingers to his pulse confirmed it. Also he totally got an eyefull of those panties from down here. Not the important part. Maintaining his face of righteous anger he glared up at Castiel. “Who are you?” He questioned, voice also laced with righteous anger.

“Castiel,” sex god answered in irritation. Out of nowhere a name tag appeared clipped to his corset proudly stating 'Hello, my name is: CASTIEL.'

Huffing, Dean stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. “Y'know, not everyone appreciates a total smartass.” Other then him since he did the same thing on a daily basis.

“I am not understanding how the gluteus maximus can gain both sentience and intelligence,” Castiel stated, his eyes squinted.

What the fuck? Dean just kind of stared for a minute. Did he... did he really just say that? Y'know what he didn't have time for this shit. “Okay... And you are...” he trailed off and made a motion with his hand at Castiel's lingere. Finally Dean gave up and sighed. “What are you man?”

Castiel stood much straighter. Fuck those eyes were blue. “I'm an Angel of the Lord,” he replied evenly. His tone was so no bullshit it made Dean do a double take.

Ha. Angels weren't real. Sex god was insane. Slowly Dean shook his head. “Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing,” he insisted, every word packed with defiance. Though... he did always have a thing for the crazy ones. Awesome in bed. Like Rhonda Hurley.

A small, patient smile appeared on those pink chapped lips. Castiel's eyes looked into his earnestly. This sudden prideful expression that lit up his face. Honestly, the guy kinda looks like he wants to exchange dick pics... and he knows his own is freakin' huge. “This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.”

Dean thought about saying something back like 'okay if faith is a code word for dick I am really for this' until he mentally smacked himself for his stupidity. No he couldn't say that... And that was when he realized the music playing. Warrant's _Cherry Pie_ blasted from some unknown place in the barn. A platform raised from the ground; sparkles and glittering silver made up the stage.

_She's my cherry pie._

On the stage stood Castiel who now had enormous, fluffy white wings attached to his back (or maybe corset) and blue heels. Actual five inch heels strapped to his feet. What the fuck was his life, and why was he so turned on?

_Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise._

Blue eyes staring right at him the 'angel' moved his hands to his thighs before sliding them back up. All Dean could stare at was all that exposed skin from his carved arms to the bulge in freakin' panties. He strutted across the stage, hips swinging to the beat of the music.

_Taste so good make a grown man cry._

It finally occurred to Dean that he was getting the sexy dance he always wanted to Warrant. Of course, in his fantasies it had always been y'know – a girl. Then again Bobby was knocked out. Sam off fucking evil demon bitch who must not be named. No one had to know.

_Sweet cherry pie, yeah._

Castiel moved off the stage and began to approach Dean. With a flick of his wrist Dean now sat in a chair, and the angel straddled him. Swallowing hard he tried to ignore the sexiest... entity he ever met trailing a hand down his chest. Breath against his ear hot he whispered, “are you convinced now?”

_Woah._

Okay so Castiel had powers. Demons had those too. Granted they didn't... run around in lingerie with giant ass white wings. And that was when it all clicked for Dean. Angel. Wings. Lingerie. Holy shit. Maybe this was a Tulpa of all his fantasies about a hot _male_ Victoria's Secret model. Castiel played with the fabric of his shirt and rolled his hips. Fuck these jeans were tight.

_Well, swingin' on the front porch swingin' on the lawn._

Standing up once more Castiel gripped either side of his chair. He ran his tongue over those freakin' lips and just eyed Dean. Then he grinded against him hard. Shit. Call him the Grinch because his boner just grew three sizes. Okay. He had to say something. “Some ha, angel you are,” he began, coughing in embarrassment. “You... you burned out that –“ his words ended in a moan.

_Swinging where we want 'cause there ain't nobody home._

“What are you trying to say, Dean?” Castiel asked in that low, deep voice. “My true form can be... overwhelming to humans,” he informed with a purr. Oh. Oh fuck. Matching the beat he grinded right against Dean's hard on. Not knowing what else to do he let his legs fall a few inches apart needing some kind of relief.

_Swingin' to the left and swingin' to the right._

And as if hearing his god damn thoughts Castiel got off him. Though he danced around him, his hips moving in sensual circles. Dean was about ready to jack off regardless of his company. Kinda this sexy asshole's fault anyway. Though the true form thing... that meant something. His brain probably would have processed it too if not for the current uh, distraction.

_I think about baseball, swing all night, yeah._

 Breathing out in almost relief he realized exactly how overwhelming Cas'– god damn it Castiel's, he was still a monster here, true form had been. Though the angel thing might not be too far off the mark. And yeah, definitely some boner killing thoughts here.

Instantly it occurred to Dean. And with the fact came the agonizing screeches from earlier; the windows breaking open and the certainty that even if he had somehow escaped Hell he was gonna die once more. “The gas station and the motel,” Dean realized. The corner of his mouth curled in absolute rage. Forget being turned on. Cas had.. this fucker had... Fuck, just fuck everything. He was so done with this- and hell hounds, and evil bitch demon whores who couldn't get their hands off Sammy, and now angels. Fuck. Breathing in deeply he continued, “that was you talking?”

_Yeah, yeah._

Cas nodded and gave Dean this seductive grin. With a sigh he reminded himself once more that this sexy... angel had nearly blown out his ear drums. The music continued on in the background, but with his growing irritation the mood or whatever the hell that was left. Though this freakin' tension between them? He doubted with the way Cas tried to devour him with his eyes it would be leaving anytime soon.

“Buddy, next time lower the volume,” Dean ordered, voice weak as the angel continued to stare at him.

In return he gave this slight frown, his posture damn near drooping he seemed so upset. All seduction attempts gone. “It was my mistake,” Castiel rumbled out. Shit, the dude just looked so sad. Dean wrote it off, no matter how genuine he had appeared. After all he could go from giving him the hottest lapdance ever to all serious. Guy had crazy acting skills.

“Certain people, special people,” and here he locked eyes with Dean, as if he was the only thing in the freakin' universe. This intense look that passed up bedroom eyes by a mile. Not something he saw every day, that's for sure.

Cas moved closer. “--Can perceive my true visage, I thought you would be one of them.” Another pause, one hand now cradled his face. Sorrow bled out of those blue eyes. “I was wrong.”

No matter how sad Cas – Castiel jesus, why was he giving a nickname to junkless over here- got it did nothing to stop how pissed off Dean was. Because right... he still had every reason to be pissed off. Just because he beat out Sammy's stupid puppy dog eyes didn't mean shit. It didn't. And especially not how he could manage all that still dressed up in lingerie.

“And what's with this whole sexy act anyway?” He practically snarled. Forced himself to snarl. Green eyes narrowed at the trench coat. “Holy tax account gone wild,” he mocked.

Cas didn't seem to mind being mocked at all. Gripping that damn awful trenchcoat he looked down at it, his eyes sparking full of light. “This? This is a vessel. And I'm an _angel_ ,” he explained with a fond smile.

Apparently angels had a kink for meat suits. Or Victoria's Secret commercials. 'Course Dean felt disgusted. Castiel...Cas had just grinded against him. “You're possessing some poor bastard?” He questioned, getting up off the magic chair that had appeared beneath him earlier. Dean tried to lace his words with contempt, too, but damn it he still couldn't manage it. 

Mostly he was disappointed because at this point sex was ha, definitely off the table. Which sucked.

“He's a devout man. He actually prayed for this.” And fuck, Cas still seemed all smiles. Did he not understand how jacked up that was? Maybe he wasn't an angel after all even with his fancy light display. Making god damn _Warrant_ turn on from nowhere and the freakin' stage that appeared. Which now that he looked around the barn again and not at Cas he realized was missing.

Not an angel. Angels weren't just dicks with fluffy wings. Right? Shaking his head slowly Dean answered, “Well, I'm not buying what you're selling so who are you really?”  _...And just what the fuck was up with that lapdance, buddy? How do you go from zero to sixty like that?_

Blue eyes swam with confusion. As if Cas couldn't comprehend his disbelief. Then, he seemed offended. All personal, like his opinion was of some great value to the angel...monster thing. He actually huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, the corset all tight around those god damn abs. “I told you,” he insisted. A few moments went by and he squinted, before looking right at Dean. "Perhaps you need further persuasion."

Fuck. Dean coughed awkwardly and shuffled a bit where he stood. “Right.” Even if Cas was an angel, why the fuck would one choose to rescue him? Dean Winchester sinned more then anyone he knew. And he could only imagine how high up on the blasphemy list Cas' performance count as. 

Dean's voice quiet despite the raging emotions bubbling beneath the surface. “And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?.”

Cas tilted his head slightly. His eyes sparked with realization. The rough, gravel like voice grew hushed and soft. All of a sudden he was moving close, way too close and not in the sexy way- it was more of an intimate thing and Dean didn't  _do_ that shit. 

“What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?” The dude straight up cradled his face now, his entire presence just so warm.

Saved? What the – what the fuck? Dean's emotions hesitated. All his hang ups on intimacy did, too. Cas just... he was so close. Fucking hell. 

All of a sudden their were lips on his. Hot and demanding, passion like an electric wire that sparked through him with the kiss. It took Dean a minute of realizing holy shit this was actually happening before his mouth grew pliant. With excitement he kissed back, lips moving against Cas'. So much skin he had direct access to. 

All teeth and tongue the kiss became heated. A hand gripped his shoulder, laying right over the inflamed mark he had seen in the mirror. Hips bumped against each other and Dean learned Cas was just as effected as him. Their noses only became an issue once or twice.

The mouth against his was chapped, and the stubble brushing against his chin burned. It was nothing like kissing a girl- not slick and soft. At some point a moan slipped out and it occurred to Dean that he still required oxygen, god damn it. Chest heaving he broke apart from Cas. "What the, what was that?" 

Lust that darkened the blue of Cas' eyes faded and he dropped his arm. "Apologies, I... I was supposed to explain and I found myself only wanting to kiss you," he answered. 

Dean licked his lips, he knew they were puffy and red from the kiss and Cas' hair even more rumpled then before. "That's uh, okay," he finally said after a few minutes. "I mean fuck whatever you were supposed to explain. That was much more awesome." 

"I am only supposed to explain how God commanded it, that we have work for you, and you serve a role of the highest import in the apocalypse," Cas explained, voice apologetic. "Though I would rather just continue kissing you," he admitted with a grin. 

Whatever the fuck the whole apocalypse gig happened to be Dean was sure it could wait. Instead he would rather just make out with the sexy angel. He offered Cas a shrug. "Eh, fuck it." His eyes darted over to where Bobby was still unconscious. No one had to know. "So uh, I'm not much into voyeurism or somnophilia or whatever the fuck that is so you wanna get outta here and hit my motel room?" He suggested with a wink, features still flushed.

Cas blinked. "Alright." Holding out his hand to Dean they stepped over Bobby's sleeping body and walked out of the barn.

And so the apocalypse avoided as Dean and Cas were too busy fucking like bunnies to care, or notice. Michael completely scandalized blamed Chuck for not choosing a different angel to rescue Dean from Hell. Lucifer stayed alone in his cage and Ruby gave up her #evil plans for some french fries. Sam got over his demon blood addiction. Bobby finally woke up from the floor with only a mild back ache. And Dean and Cas continued to screw each other into Season Five.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Coldest Hits  
> The prompt was Destiel as Fuck and I think that 4x01 definitely qualifies. Y'know with a little tweaking.  
> -  
> This is just a small crackish thing written for the challenge. No need for any kudos or comments, okay? :)


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